


Follow you into the dark

by shedrovemehere



Category: DDT Pro-Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, but like i-just-found-my-soulmate hand jobs, i guess, the thing where you do stuff in the dark but it's really hot instead of confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: The future Golden Lovers had their first match against each other in August 2008. They both felt an immediate connection they couldn't ignore, one that would end up shaping their entire careers. Even then, in the moment, it made for some intense interactions.





	Follow you into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on a chapter about the Golden Lovers' first meeting in August 2008 for _[Silver and Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432070/chapters/25615908)_. In that story, they don't become... uh, lovers... right away. But I kept thinking about the bonkers 'real-life' (ie kayfabe) story. When DDT invited Kenny to come back to Japan to fight Kota one more time, the boys begged to be a tag team instead.
> 
> I can't stop thinking about that! Whatever happened between them that first time was so intense that they somehow convinced DDT to take one of their rising singles stars and put him on a tag team with a complete unknown from Canada, someone who'd had ONE match in Japan prior to that. They got DDT to agree to a full time contract for some random dude they originally wanted to have ONE match. How did they know with so much certainty that they didn't want to fight each other? How were they willing to change their lives and careers so drastically after having one match against each other? Their desire to be together changed their lives and careers, and they knew it was meant to be after one tour together. After their first match, Kota said "I love Kenny Omega!" and Kenny said "we are now best friends." They were so, so smitten, right away.
> 
> So, here's a version of the story where their instant connection sets all of that in motion in a more obvious way.
> 
> ([Here's a fantastic summary of Kenny's first trip to Japan](http://theundergrounddog.tumblr.com/post/177867720181/kenny-omega-at-ddt-part-1). Many, many huge thanks to Tumblr user @theundergrounddog for that amazing research. It contributed so much to this fic!)

One of the falls had to be in the ring—that’s the stipulation—and of course, it’s the second one, the one that counts. Which means there’s a whole audience is there when Kenny _fucking bursts into tears what the fuck?_ It’s overwhelming; he’s… he doesn’t know; one of those moments where you’re close to understanding the full extent of how alive you are, and it almost hurts. He’s breathless and aching and confused, and maybe the creepy way all the girls who work in shops greet you all singsongy and robotic has finally worn him down. Maybe. Either way, Ibushi is there, and that makes it worse. It’s over. The thing he came here to do, and he _lost_. But he lost to _him_. A man who haunted Kenny’s dreams, practically. Now kneeling over him looking very dreamlike; angelic with the bright light above him as Kenny lays on the mat. Kenny smiles weakly.

“Are you okay? Amazing! Amazing!” Kota says, in intentionally simple Japanese so Kenny can understand.

Kenny has to fight off the tears again. _Why does he think *I* was amazing?_  “Yes. Thank you. You, also amazing.” He’ll need to learn more Japanese. Or maybe he won’t. This might be the last he ever sees Kota Ibushi. Tears again. The crowd’s cheering for Ibushi’s win, and maybe Ibushi says he hit his head? Ibushi asks Nakazawa and… Kenny can’t remember the other guy’s name… to pull Kenny to his feet. Now the crowd is chanting Kenny's name; _how do they even remember it?_ Ibushi comes over and hugs him, and Kenny can’t keep it together anymore. He collapses as he leaves the ring, and Ibushi, instead of bowing to the crowd, crouches down to look at him again.

Ibushi’s glassy-eyed, maybe he does have a concussion, but that makes it even more overwhelming when he deliberately and stubbornly makes eye contact, holds Kenny’s gaze. It’s obvious it takes effort. “You are so strong! You made me say ‘I love pro wrestling!’” He grins like all his energy is being used to appear as if he knows where he is.

Kenny almost can’t deal with Kota Ibushi’s kind effusiveness right now, let alone his compliments. He bows his head, shaking it back and forth almost in shame. A few more tears. Kota grabs his face, and Kenny already couldn’t breathe but now…

“Kenny-san. Please don’t forget me.” He looks honestly _scared_ , somehow worried that Kenny could possibly forget fighting the man who was so incredible it compelled him across the world. His face is beautiful and he somehow lives in a universe where Kenny could have any thought in his mind beyond _his face is beautiful_ , in this moment. “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

 _He must have really hit his head._ Kenny can’t even make the joke in his own mind; it’s too much that Ibushi is… feels… Kenny sobs. Ugly crying.

Kota helps him up, then does that thing where the winner leaves so the loser _whom the crowd wants to adore_ has some extra time with them. _What is this. What is happening._ He does his best, lip quaking and all, to accept their love without collapsing into sobs in front of them.

The second he stumbles backstage, he starts forgetting what just happened. All he can do is stagger into the locker room, then back out again into the hallway after seeing how many people are in there and realizing how much he _cannot_ right now. A few feet away is the open door to something that looks like a closet or some kind of tiny empty room, and Kenny collapses against the wall, slumping down onto the carpeted floor, closes the door with his foot from where he’s sitting. It’s dark and stuffy, and he doesn’t know where the light is but it doesn’t matter.

The tears won’t stop, and Kenny’s wiping his nose with his sweaty hands, but it’s really not effective, so he tries to slow his mind. He can’t even begin to start processing all he feels. There’s elation and shame and disappointment and… strange other things engulfing him; towering emotions he can’t fully see the shape of, let alone name. He can barely breathe; he feels...  _so much_.

The dark, the absence of stimulation, is calming, but his breathing is still heavy when there’s a knock on the door.

“H—hello?” Kenny’s so bewildered that someone would knock on the door to an unused closet that he forgets to speak Japanese. He irons out the waver in his voice before he speaks again. “Hai?”

The door opens, and for the second time today Kenny looks up at a backlit Kota Ibushi standing over him like an angel, glistening and gorgeous. Before Kenny can say anything, Ibushi closes the door behind him, and Kenny can feel in the dark, Ibushi’s sitting against the wall opposite him. It’s a small room (closet?), so their feet bump each other. “I’ll leave if you want me to,” Kota says, not very convincingly, as he could have just asked to come in in the first place. He’s silent for a moment. In the dark, he inelegantly bumps Kenny’s knee with a bottle of cold water, trying to hand it to him. Maybe he actually is an angel. “Did I make you cry?”

Kenny almost chokes on an unexpected breathy laugh, because he can’t tell if Ibushi is kidding or not, and he also doesn’t know the answer to the question. “No, Ibushi-san! I’m sorry. I mean I’m sad to leave but…” he doesn’t even know how to phrase it in _English_ … “I just feel so many things.” Kenny fumbles to grab the water bottle and chugs half of it.

Ibushi laughs a little, not at Kenny, but as though he wants to convey that he’s smiling even though Kenny can’t see him. “Me too,” he says quietly. “I always feel too many things. People think I’m crazy.” He sounds sad, almost, and so jarringly earnest. But Kenny doesn’t know what to say, because Ibushi is the coolest person he has ever seen in his entire life, and he can’t fathom the idea that someone like _him_ would ever feel like an outsider.

“They’re wrong,” Kenny says, and Ibushi nudges Kenny’s foot with his toe gratefully.

“I like feeling a lot of things,” Kenny says, and he realizes it’s true, and furthermore that he’s being more immediately honest with this complete stranger than he is with everyone except his sister. It’s like he can’t shut off… whatever that was, that connected them in the ring. Add that confusion to the pile of feelings.

Ibushi does the smile-laugh thing again, and says, “me too. I like feeling a lot of things. If you like it too, maybe I am not crazy. Here.”

Kenny can feel a towel brushing gently against his knee. He takes it and wipes the tears and sweat from his eyes, immediately feeling a little more in control, thanks to this stupid towel. For just a moment, Kenny is pretty sure he has never loved anyone more than he loves Kota Ibushi. He chuckles to himself. “Are _you_ feeling okay? Is your head okay?”

“The doctor says I might have a concussion, but only a little. I’m okay. I’m…” he hesitates, like he’s looking for a word simple enough for Kenny to understand. He settles on “happy,” which he says in a way that conveys it’s not nearly the appropriate word.

“Stomach?” Kenny says, because he doesn’t know the word for “nausea,” so that’s the best he can manage right now.

Ibushi laughs a little. “Strong stomach,” he says, and then, “I will stay with you.” He claps a hand to Kenny’s calf, rubs it sweetly, which… _oh god, Kenny, no. Absolutely not._ “Thank you, Kenny-san.” Kenny can hear him rustling around, shifting position in the dark, and he’s startled when he feels Ibushi sit down next to him, arm and thigh leaning on Kenny’s arm and thigh.

This is _bad_. Kenny’s grateful for the dark, because when Ibushi tenderly rubbed his leg like that, it made him a little hard. Everyone gets like this sometimes, after great matches; nerves tingling and blood pumping, feeling like something needs to be consummated. And this is by far the worst it’s ever been; he’s never cried after a match before, and his flimsy control of his emotions means he can’t check that heat. Back home, lots of guys will go pick up some girl hanging out by the back doors to the venue. Just as many will help each other out—everyone understands that hot-blooded feeling. No one ever talks about it, but you learn to remember who’s down.  But Kenny has no idea whether Japan is the same, and Ibushi seems sweet and innocent; far too sincere for his age.

Ibushi puts his hand on Kenny’s knee. He’s not making this easy. “Are you okay? I was worried when I saw you crying.” He squeezes Kenny’s knee supportively.

Kenny breathes in and out slowly, Ibushi’s so _close_ and it’s just making him harder. But Kenny _does_ feel a lot better. “Yes. I am, thank you.” He wants to be as honest as Ibushi has been with him. It’s made him feel safe. “Talking to you made me feel better.” Kota grabs Kenny’s hand in gratitude. Kenny feels jolts through his body at the soft touch. “Uh… how… how did you know I was in here?”

Ibushi laughs and leans his head against Kenny’s. _Torture._ “I followed my feelings. I thought that this was where I would go if I was crying a lot,” he says, and he’s not making fun of Kenny. “Fighting with you…” Kenny can tell Ibushi’s making some sort of motion with his hands before he realizes Kenny can’t see him. “Fireworks. People loved it. I will think about it forever. Please come back to Japan."

Kenny feels like he’s going cry again. “I will, I hope.”

“If you don’t, I will fight you in Canada,” Kota laughs, as if it’s a genuine threat, as if that would somehow be undesirable instead of one of the best things that could possibly come of this.

Kenny would have thought Ibushi would be an aloof asshole. That’s been Kenny’s experience with most people who are either ridiculously talented or ridiculously hot, and Ibushi is… both, really, more so than anyone else Kenny’s ever met. But, as if to mock Kenny’s boner _and_ heart, Ibushi is _also_ amazingly kind and thoughtful. And he’s… still resting his head and bodyweight against Kenny’s. It’s stuffy in the little room and they’re both soaked in sweat from the match. There’s no reason to be this close; it’s not even comfortable.  _Maybe…_  “Ibushi-san, water?” He swishes the bottle around so Kota can hear where it is. Kota takes it and drinks some, and now he’s resting his head on Kenny’s shoulder, maintaining that awkward contact, like he’s waiting to see what Kenny will do.

 _Well, if I’m reading this wrong, I don’t have to come back._  He reaches across their bodies, turning slightly toward Kota, who seems to shift his position. Kenny slowly, tentatively puts his hand on Kota’s hip, just at the waistband of his trunks. Maybe if there’s no response Kenny can turn it into an awkward hug or something. Kota goes completely motionless, frozen for a moment, and Kenny is ready to start apologizing, but then Ibushi does that smile laugh thing and grabs Kenny’s hand, pressing it more firmly against his hip.

Before Kenny can react, Kota’s switched their positions; he's on his knees straddling Kenny, whose back is now against the wall. Kenny’s not 100% confident about his grasp of Japanese social norms, but he’s pretty sure this is no longer a friendship-type transaction. Ibushi rocks his hips against Kenny’s, and Kenny instinctively, greedily grinds back, breath hitching. Ibushi takes Kenny’s hands and guides them to his upper thighs, so Kenny's thumbs are rubbing against the hem of those tiny white trunks, where hip and inner thigh meet. _Holy shit_. Kota softly puts his hands on either side of Kenny’s face, and brings their foreheads together. If they could see, they’d be staring into each other’s eyes.

“I want to kiss you,” Kota says quietly, and just like when he came in the room, if he _really_ thought Kenny would object, he would have asked permission well before he put Kenny’s hands that close to his dick.

Kenny wants to say something clever or brave, but all he can do is close his eyes, like that matters, and whisper “okay.”

There’s so much heat and energy, but Ibushi isn’t aggressive, he’s soft and passionate and grateful. As earnest here as he was with his words, he presses his lips to Kenny’s carefully, lightly. He opens his mouth and slowly finds Kenny’s tongue with his, thumbs stroking Kenny’s cheeks lovingly, exhaling shakily. He’s clearly nervous, which is an absolutely ridiculous way to feel, for a man so beautiful he could kiss anyone he wanted to, but Kenny’s not arguing. The kiss is maddeningly electric but so deliberate; not timid but attentive, and Kenny can feel the jolt in his chest that travels down his stomach, unfurling into his belly. He’s so hard, and now that _this is really happening_ , he’s relishing it, knowing that kinetic pulse he got from the fight will be allowed to flow out into his body, traveling through his veins.

Kota kisses him harder, more aggressive, and Kenny just thinks…. _yes_. Suddenly this isn’t like blowing off steam after matches back home; Kenny doesn’t want to fuck, he wants _him_ , wants to explore and experience, possess and be possessed by _him_. Maybe it’s the emotional exhaustion or the weird detach of doing this in complete darkness, or Ibushi’s sweet frankness, but all at once he’s warm and light-headed, and it's not just about getting off, it’s about this thoughtful, enigmatic, talented man, who somehow wants Kenny, too. Kenny knows he should be worried by the intensity of that, but he can’t care right now. Not when their chests are sliding against each other and Ibushi’s pinned him against the wall. He could barely care if the whole company were there watching… _wait._

He breaks the kiss, and in the dark he can feel Ibushi’s hot breath against his cheek, forehead to forehead. “The door?” he asks, and without breaking contact or moving his head, Ibushi reaches toward the door and fumbles for a second, and to Kenny’s slight surprise, there’s a little click, because for some reason there’s a lock on the inside of this maybe-closet door. Kota wraps his arm around Kenny’s waist and trails kisses behind his ear, down his neck, onto his collarbone. Kenny rocks his hips up and squeezes Kota’s thighs, tentatively sliding his thumbs up under the hem of his trunks. Kota pulls away from Kenny, gasping. “It’s okay?” Kenny says. 

By way of response, Ibushi resumes the kiss hastily but not roughly, and makes an almost impatient noise into Kenny’s mouth as he thrusts his tongue and his hips forward. Kenny’s thumbs slide over hot skin and coarse, wet hair; thumbs pressing into the hard muscle on the inside of his thighs. Kota gasps into his mouth, rocks his hips more deliberately against Kenny’s. It’s dizzying and Kenny’s breathless, trying to summon the nerve to move his thumbs just a little further.

Kota suddenly pulls away from him, but it only draws attention to the way their thighs slide together as he rocks his hips into Kenny’s touch. “You…” he sounds urgent. “You’re amazing. The match, I mean.” Kenny can feel Kota’s chest and stomach laboring to breathe. _Why is he saying this now_ , but Kenny’s too dumbstruck to ask him. Kota says, “I feel I know you…” He slides his arms around Kenny’s neck.

Kenny can feel the length of Kota’s cock sliding along his own, through their soaking wet gear. He gulps, and lets his head fall backward against the wall. “Thank you,” he says, as breathless at the compliment as the contact, and so nervous he uses the most polite and formal “thank you” he knows.

Kota, maybe spooked by Kenny's sudden formality, pulls away abruptly and makes a disappointed noise. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Kenny-san. I’m being so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He sits back, still on Kenny’s lap, but in a much more PG way, now.

Kenny’s mind reels with the sudden shift, and the apology. “What?” Between the language barrier and the dizzying fog of arousal, he has no idea what Ibushi is saying, but in no universe should he be  _sorry_. “No, no… no sorry. No.” He hopes that gets it across well enough.

“I like you, I’m sorry. Too fast.” Kota breathes heavily, fidgets indecisively.

Kenny’s entire heart, mind, and body have been wrapped up in Kota Ibushi for the past hour or so. Before that, it was months of waiting to meet him, imagining how fighting him would feel. He’s known, since the first few seconds of that video, that Ibushi would change his life. He’s never been so sure of something so crazy before. There could be no such thing as ’too fast.’ “No. I like you. Sorry? Why?”

Ibushi sighs, but stops fidgeting. “I’m doing this with you. But I think I’m talking like…” He searches for the right word… “lying,” he says in English, then, “not lying.” Then back to Japanese, still trying to use simple phrasing so Kenny can understand: “it’s for you…” he grinds his hips and lets out a shaky breath as he does. “…because I feel I know you,” he repeats. “It’s true.”

Kenny has no idea what he’s trying to say, but it sounds very sincere. “So desu ne,” he says in acknowledgement, because what is he supposed to say to that?

Kota brings his face close to Kenny’s again, and breathes a small laugh. “Kenny-san. I feel a lot of things,” he says, and Kenny can hear the smile in his voice.

 _Oh._ Kenny can’t help but grin and agree; “a lot of things,” he says, and briefly debates whether to worry about the lots of things, before deciding he doesn’t want to be not-kissing Kota anymore, and pulls him in by the hips. Now their cocks are fully pressed together, side by side, pressing into the soft muscles of their hips. Kenny can’t help but sigh; he can’t remember ever being this keyed up, this aware of the energy exchanged where skin is pressed against skin. He moves his thumbs inward, to stroke the base of Kota’s cock, and Kota drops his forehead to Kenny’s shoulder and shivers.

For a second, they stay like that, grinding hard against each other, kissing intermittently and sweetly in contrast. In the dark, there’s nothing to do but feel and hear; pay attention to every place their sweat-soaked bodies are moving against each other, focus on the sound of their increasingly shaky breaths.

Ibushi presses his body into Kenny’s, pinning him harder against the wall, and leans his cheek on the side of Kenny’s face. Kenny can feel his parted lips against his cheek, and hear his labored breathing. Kota slowly drags his fingers over Kenny’s chest, then his abs, and gently finds waistband of Kenny’s trunks, lightly running his hands along it. “It’s okay?”

Kenny is too turned on to be embarrassed at how quickly and forcefully he thrusts his hips against Ibushi’s hand, causing Ibushi’s fingers to brush lightly over the head of his cock through his tights. “Yes,” he breathes, and strokes Kota’s cock between his thumbs. Ibushi finds Kenny’s mouth again, kissing him forcefully as he peels Kenny's soaking wet trunks down around his thighs. The way he groans into Kenny’s mouth is almost as hot as the feeling of his hand wrapping around Kenny’s cock, sliding effortlessly.

Kenny, almost panicked that he’s going to come within a few seconds, fumbles desperately for the waistband of Kota’s trunks. Before he can even ask, Kota manages to sigh a soft ‘yes’ between kisses, and Kenny moves the waistband down around his hips. He grabs Kota’s ass with one hand and he can feel the muscles of his hips and thighs shudder as he takes Kota’s cock in his other hand, every part of them slick with sweat.

Just like how it had been in the ring, it feels like they enter some weird wavelength together, where their bodies connect and communicate without words; only instinct and exhilaration driving them. Kenny can feel Ibushi’s knuckles slide against his belly, and he tries to mentally record every piece of the sensation so he can imagine Ibushi’s hand jerking him off later. He leans so hard into the kiss, thrusts his hips into Ibushi’s fist.

Kota’s doing the same, abandoned to feeling, fucking Kenny’s hand, making little high-pitched grunting noises into Kenny’s mouth. As he gets more erratic with his thrusts, he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his temple on Kenny’s, breathing heavily against Kenny’s ear. Those gorgeous noises melt into Kenny’s name over and over; whispered like a prayer of gratitude. _Kenny. Kenny Kenny_. Kota wraps his free hand around the back of Kenny’s neck and pulls himself close into Kenny’s chest as he comes, still repeating Kenny’s name. Kenny already could barely endure Kota saying his name like that; he’s too far gone to slow down, and the feeling of hot cum spilling onto his hand make him come too, with a quiet gasp, throwing his head back.

He’s still leaning his head against the wall as Kota presses his chest against Kenny’s, dusting sweet little kisses on Kenny’s exposed neck. It all happened so quickly that Kenny’s almost wondering how they arrived here; snuggly, sweat-soaked, hands covered in cum, blissed out. For several moments, they just breathe heavily together, letting their breathing sync and slow. Kota is moving around, and Kenny soon realizes he was grabbing the towel for both of them to wipe their hands.

Kenny towels himself off as best he can, and wraps his arms around Kota’s shoulders, twisting one hand into his sweat-soaked hair. Ibushi hugs him back fiercely, squeezing with his whole body. It doesn’t matter how sweaty they are or how hot and stuffy this tiny room is, how he’s going to explain this to his translator Nakazawa, or who might see them when they leave; Kenny’s only thinking about the preciousness of the person in his arms, how right and safe it feels to be as close as he possibly can. He knows he should be afraid of how much he cares about this stranger he traveled to the other side of the planet to lose to, whose language he doesn’t speak, with whom he's just exchanged comedically short hand jobs and unbelievably passionate makeouts in a fucking broom closet _or something_. But he’s not afraid; all of that absurdity, astoundingly, makes sense in a way very few things ever have.

Ibushi brings a hand softly to the side of Kenny’s face, and kisses him slowly and gratefully. He climbs off his lap, panting heavily like he was after the match, and resumes his place leaning against the opposite wall. As he moves, he never takes his hands off Kenny, lets them trail down his arm and leg until he can lean his legs against Kenny’s as they both sit with their knees up and feet on the floor.

 _What now?_ What could they possibly say to each other?

Ibushi giggles to himself. “Now I feel more things,” he says, sounding as amused at his own disbelief as Kenny feels.

“Me too,” Kenny says, dizzy. It’s all feelings, the match was all feeling—not even pain, just undeniable connection, inexplicable joy. And this, _so appropriate_ , Kenny realizes, that they couldn’t see each other. All feeling, all navigating by emotion and desire. Trusting someone so fully and immediately. His mind reels. “The law in this room is: feeling a lot of things is best. Very smart, normal.”

Ibushi laughs, and Kenny briefly worries he mixed up his words. “And I am not crazy!” Ibushi amends the law.

“Yes you are," Kenny says, also laughing. He couldn’t really argue otherwise after what just happened. “Me too,” he adds quickly. “That was a crazy thing.”

Ibushi, still laughing, grabs Kenny’s calf.  “If we’re both crazy, crazy is normal.” He _did_ hit his head earlier, Kenny remembers, and now he’s got the full-on giggles. “We are crazy together.”

Kenny smiles and leans his head back against the wall, because that _is_ what they did, after all, in the match and… after. They somehow, together, stumbled into a world where big feelings make sense. And are best. None of this feels real; absolutely none of it. Kenny knows that they’ll have to leave this closet, take showers, deal with normal life stuff. They’ll have to awkwardly talk about—or awkwardly avoid dealing with—what just happened. They’ve got a whole tour ahead of them. Kenny knows life is going to drift back to earth and become more present and tangible—he’ll learn what his favorite konbini snacks are, and ride in Japanese tour buses, and maybe figure out how to run up the weird, short stairs here without falling. And as much as he’s savoring this strange moment, he hopes Ibushi will become more real to him, too.

Ibushi squeezes Kenny’s calf. “My hand is on your leg because maybe you are not real," Kota says seriously. "If I stop, maybe we'll disappear in the dark.”

Kenny feels that too, that fear that as soon as they break contact, they’ll wake up, or float into space. That this surreal dream world will vanish as soon as a light is turned on. Of course, it eventually  _will_ disappear, in some ways, but Kenny also feels that strange hyper-present awareness, that one where you somehow know the emotional tableau of the current moment will stick with you for hours, weeks after you leave it. Years, maybe. He’d have thought he’d be terrified that Ibushi—way, _way_ out of his league—would change his mind, or regret what they did, or wave it off as just post match relief. Kenny’s calm, though. They’ve got time. “I will not disappear, Ibushi-san. I found you from Canada. I came to Japan. If I don’t know where you are, I'll just challenge you until you appear.” He laughs at the thought of issuing challenges into the aether to help Ibushi find his way home.

Ibushi laughs. “Yes! You're right. Good. You won't lose me. I will not lose you either. I found you in here, today,” he says confidently. “So, now I will know how to find you, if you disappear in the dark.”

Kenny grins. He doesn’t doubt that for a second.


End file.
